


Cataclysmic

by kittinoir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, There is no comfort here, chat blanc angst, har har original title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittinoir/pseuds/kittinoir
Summary: Marinette has fallen for Chat Noir twice. How? HOW?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, ladynoir, marichat - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 97





	Cataclysmic

**Author's Note:**

> This was a post on Tumblr, and I'm sorry, I forgot who suggested it first. This was also supposed to be funny, and it's not, BUT I'm toying with the idea of doing a funny version. My children have suffered enough.

Marinette sighed as she dropped onto her bed through the skylight. A pale pink flash briefly lit the inside of her dark room as her suit disappeared. _I forgot to leave a light on_. The thought flickered through her mind briefly. She dismissed it. It was a comfort she hadn’t been able to leave behind in recent months whenever she thought she might be coming home to a dark room, her mind playing tricks on her, afraid of what might step out of the shadows. Or who.

Today those wild ideas were closer than ever. Marinette snapped the string of lights over her bed on. The tiny lights combatted the darkness, beating the shadows back just enough to ease the tightness in her chest. She climbed down to her room, flipping on the rest of the lights until her room was practically glowing.

The soft pink walls, the girly chaise, the mannequin in the corner with yards of lilac-coloured chiffon draped across it. They were so at odds with the day she’d had, almost like it couldn’t have possibly happened. Couldn’t be real.

“...Marinette?” Tikki’s small voice was softer than usual. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Marinette murmured. “Yeah, I am.” She sank onto the chaise, pulling a blanket up around herself, needing warmth where Chat Noir had been providing it only an hour ago. 

As much as she’d needed to see him, to convince herself she had saved him, it had been nearly impossible to keep the thousands of questions from spilling out. _Do you think you know who I am? Do you think we know each other? What happened, in that other time? How did you make me fall for you?_ But she had a sinking suspicion that he hadn’t ‘made’ her do anything. The thought sent chills through her body, the tiny hairs raising on her arms.

Marinette reached for her phone, silently flipping through it until she pulled up a post on the Ladyblog. _That_ post. She took in the details, analyzing it in a way she hadn’t been able to before today. 

Their fingers were interlaced. One black-clad, clawed hand rested on her waist, holding her - holding, not clutching her to him. Her free hand rested on his chest, relaxed. And the corners of her lips tilted up, a small smile, warm and - happy.

Marinette closed her eyes and let her phone drop. Her fingers brushed her lips, her skin tingling if her body could still remember that kiss, even if she couldn’t. 

_How_. How had it happened? She knew a part of her loved him, but she wasn’t _in_ love with him. Not the way she was in love with Adrien. More like the way she loved Alya. He was one of her best friends, the only person who could truly understand the burden they shared. The only person she could talk to when she had doubts as Ladybug.

So how had it spun into something else over the course of one afternoon? How had it become something that destroyed the world? That destroyed…her? And Adrien…maybe it was her crush talking, a part of her that was bigger than she cared to mention still hurt that she couldn’t trust him with her secret. That if he knew, some way or another, someone else would find out. 

“I fell for him twice, Tikki,” Marinette said. Her eyes fluttered open to see her kwami floating a few feet in front of her, an old sadness on her tiny features. “ _Twice_. I’m so…I’m so confused. Chat Noir, Adrien, Ladybug? I don’t understand how it fits.”

“Who knows what the future holds, Marinette,” Tikki said, nuzzling her cheek. “The answers you seek may be just around the corner.”

Comforting, in the only way she could: without giving away too much. Because of course, Marinette remembered, Tikki knew who he really was. Just like Plagg knew who she really was. At least, they had a face. Whether or not they had a name…

She’d been unsure at the beginning, telling Chat Noir she doubted they knew each other out of the mask. After all, what were the odds? Besides, she’d remember the poorly-timed puns, the outrageous flirting, someone who always seemed to vanish during an akuma attack. 

But then his kwami had shown up at her school. He’d called it an elementary school, and she’d believed him. She’d chosen to. She’d wanted to, because she knew if she hadn’t she’d eventually figure it out. Probably pretty quickly. 

It didn’t matter. It never had. Because the only person she ever saw was Adrien. Chat Noir had once asked her if he’d had a shot if ‘the other guy’ wasn’t around. She hadn’t answered the question, not really, simply saying she couldn’t imagine him _not_ being around. That hadn’t changed.

Of course, she couldn’t imagine Chat Noir not being around, either. Could she fall for him?

Yes, she realized. Yes, she could. Very easily. The puns could be poorly-timed, but Marinette could admit she loved them. Relied on them, even, almost like a measure of how bad things were. When he stopped joking with her, that’s when things were bad. The levity gave her the space she needed to focus, to come up with a solution. He was brave. He’d never balked at a baddie, had thrown himself in front of an attack meant for her more times than she could count. He was smart, and always seemed to know exactly how to make himself the most effective, content to let her take the lead on most of their missions. He was…good, in a way Marinette suspected most people weren’t.

Which was why the day had been that much more horrific. She knew she would dream about those ice-cold eyes that night, and many more to come. Of her Miraculous being ripped from her ears. Of turning to dust on the wind. Of Chat Noir calling her by name as she fell, the wind tearing at her hair, her face. 

So really, the question wasn’t ‘how’ - but ‘if’. If she could let go of someone else. If she could trust herself. If she could be brave enough to try.

And maybe she could have been, if another ‘if’ didn’t make her heart stutter with fear. _It was our love that did this to the world._ If her giving in, if her trying, wouldn’t be purely cataclysmic.


End file.
